


sweeter

by imaginejolls



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/F, Fillory, Multi, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, i binged the show way too fast few months ago and i don't remember what happens when, i guess this could qualify as crack but, i try to stay as close to canon as i can when i don't remember it lmao, so this could be set in either s3 or s4 i dont know when Margo is High King, though i was thinking they have some magic sex protection spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19804771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginejolls/pseuds/imaginejolls
Summary: Margo and Eliot discover Fillorian mead.





	sweeter

The evening air is cool, making Eliot shiver. He should have worn that cardigan. They’re sitting in the gardens and drinking Fillorian mead which, surprisingly, doesn’t taste awful. There’s a tent over their heads and a wooden table surrounded on each side by benches. Eliot listens to the birds chittering away in the trees and occasionally takes a sip of the golden-brown substance. He mostly watches others, members of the council mixed with servants and even some villagers. He feels good.

Margo is a solid presence beside him, in all of her royal beauty. She’s watching someone and, following her line of sight, Eliot realizes it’s Fen. A flower crown sits atop her head; it could be some Fillorian version of daisies, the white contrasting with her mead-coloured hair. Eliot smiles fondly, watching Fen talk animatedly with someone he doesn’t know. She’s passionate and knowledgeable and kind but she can and _will_ cut a bitch. He could have loved her, once. Were things not… Were things not the way that they were.

Suddenly, Margo stares at him so intently that Eliot is overcome with the sense of being spoken to despite Margo never actually opening her mouth. 

"What is it, Bambi?" he finally asks, fixing his gaze on her (familiar, safe) face. 

"I'm just wondering," she starts, pauses. "Can I fuck your wife?"

Eliot levels her with a curious look. “We’re not married anymore,” is all he says after a while. 

Margo rolls her eyes at him. “Ex-wife, whatever.” 

“Only if I can watch,” he answers jokingly. Then: “Well, why are you asking me? It’s not like I… own her, ugh. Go ask her.”

Margo smiles at him devilishly before she stands up and power-walks over to Fen. She leans down to whisper in Fen’s ear dramatically. Eliot watches Fen’s scandalized expression with amusement, how her cheeks darken further with Margo’s words. Margo then walks back to him, settling on his lap instead of back on the bench. 

“Did you see her face?” he asks and grins at Margo in his lap. “What did you even say to her?”

“I -,” Margo takes a sip of the mead, “I asked if she’d like to join me in bed while you watch.” 

Eliot gasps. He pushes her with his shoulder, looking equally offended and horrified. “Why would you do that, Jesus!” 

“What! Anyway, I told her we’ll be going inside soon and whether or not she joins us is her choice.”

He laughs at the absurdity of the scenario, feeling warm and light and carefree, for once. The mead might’ve helped. 

“C’mon,” Margo clambers out of his lap again, very un-royal-like. “Let’s get you inside. I can feel you shivering.”

They walk through the empty castle holding hands. It’s such a small thing, yet, for some reason, it feels so significant. This is who they are; this is what they feel for each other. 

Margo’s chambers are warm and dim. Eliot crouches by the fireplace, flicks a match over the box and throws it into the prepared pile of wood. He watches the flames flicker and burn. He hears Margo pour a glass of water, then the clink of the pitcher being set back down on her dresser. Margo appears by his side, holding out several candles. Eliot smiles and lights them for her. Margo sets one on the dresser, another on the window sill, then one on each of the bedside tables. She takes a sip of water, hands the glass to Eliot and disappears in the bathroom for a moment. 

Eliot sits down in a comfortable armchair by the window. He listens to the water run and looks outside. He can see the edge of the tent in the gardens, small figures of people walking around it. The sound of the door draws his eyes away. 

Margo’s taken off her make up and her crown. In the soft glow of the flames, she looks other-worldly. Eliot chuckles to himself - she _is_. She beckons him closer and he stands up, walking over to her. Margo turns her back to him and says “take it off for me?” Eliot patiently works all of the buttons and what not undone, pushing the fabric off of her shoulders. He bends down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Her face is turned to him and he can see her smiling as he straightens back up. 

Eliot runs his hands over Margo’s now-exposed skin. The dress is pooled around her hips and he nudges it over and lets it drop to the floor. They stand like that, her back pressed to his front while his hands travel across her body. Eliot squeezes her breasts (upside of Fillorian fashion: no bras), hurries across her stomach and teases at the insides of her thighs. With a kiss to her neck, he steps away. Margo sways, and his hand is immediately on her elbow to steady her. 

“Tease,” she says with a playful smile and goes to put the dress away.

Eliot uses the bathroom and comes back to Margo sprawled across the bed, wearing a robe she didn’t bother tying closed and ankle socks. It’s an interesting combination. 

He sits down next to her on the edge of the bed. Margo reaches out, grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him down to lie flat on his back. It knocks a laugh out of his lungs and he kisses her still smiling. And then they just lie side by side in silence. Margo’s hand creeps up his body to idly undo the buttons on his vest, the decorative ribbons of his Fillorian shirt. Eliot sits up to shrug the vest off, leaves the shirt hanging off his frame. 

It’s when Margo is standing over him, one knee resting on the bed next to his thigh, that they hear a hesitant knock on the door. They wait for it to open, Fen’s head poking in. 

“Hi! Um,” she forces her whole body through the door, closes it behind herself. “I’m here. If you’ll still have me.” 

Her voice is uncertain, cheeks red. Her eyes flit between the two of them nervously. 

“Of course,” Margo says calmly. “You sure, though?” 

“I can leave,” Eliot says, shooting up to his feet. 

Fen shakes her head. “No, uh. It’s alright. Stay.” 

She looks at him softly, speaking with no words, and Eliot hopes he understands what she is saying. 

Margo holds out her hand and Fen takes it with no hesitation shown this time. She lets herself be pulled into Margo’s arms, stumbling a little. 

“You can always change your mind,” Margo says. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

“Okay,” Fen whispers and then Margo’s mouth is on hers, soft and warm. Margo keeps the kiss somewhat chaste, just a slide of lips across each other, very gentle. Fen comes out of the kiss looking a little starstruck. (Eliot can’t blame her; Margo is a great kisser.) He’s about to move away, having awkwardly stood there while they kissed, but Fen stops him with a hand on his chest. She rises to her tippy toes and tilts her head back, and Eliot is not stupid. Leaning down, he presses his mouth against hers. It’s familiar but this time, Fen tastes of mead, and he doesn’t hate it because this time, he chose to be here. 

Eliot moves to the armchair nevertheless, stretching his legs so far they almost touch the bed. He kicks his shoes off. 

Margo has Fen sit on the bed and straddles her lap. They kiss again, much less tame than their first kiss was. Eliot can see Margo’s tongue darting into Fen’s mouth. Fen’s hands are clutching at the bed covers by her sides. Margo leans back, catching her eyes. 

“Touch me,” she says. Fen does, immediately. Her fingers trace Margo’s curves and edges over her robe, then trace them again underneath it. Fen discovers Margo’s breasts inch by inch, gently caressing them before giving them an experimental squeeze. Margo must make a sound of approval, because Fen focuses and plays with her boobs for a while. It’s a bit awkward when they’re kissing so she lets herself slide backwards until she rests on the bed fully, Margo sitting on top of her. Fen watches her own hands work with fascination. 

Margo takes Fen’s hands in her own and kisses each of her fingers. Fen smiles up at her, and Eliot smiles to himself.

“We should probably take this off,” Margo says, plucking the daisy chain out of Fen’s hair. 

“And this, too,” she adds, running a finger over the lacy collar of Fen’s dress. Fen blushes adorably in response.

It is a joint effort to undress Fen and as such, it is over quickly. And then Eliot’s eyes rest at the familiar shapes of Fen’s pale body. His eyes trace the swell of Fen’s breasts, the curves of her hips, her long long legs. In the candlelight, she is almost glowing. Eliot wishes he could have appreciated her beauty when they were married. (He appreciates it now.)

Margo appreciates it as well. She is studying Fen intently, her gaze on her so heavy that Fen can almost feel it. There’s a dark curtain of hair on the far side of Margo’s face from where Eliot is sitting. He wonders… 

“El,” Margo says then, not looking at him. “Could you fetch me a hair tie, please?” 

He smiles, stands up slowly. Hair ties are one of the many Earth things that Margo can’t do without. He grabs one on the dresser and instead of handing it to Margo, he gathers her hair at the crown of her head and secures it in a bun. It looks messy and not in the cool way but it gets the job done. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Eliot presses a kiss at the top of her head. 

He goes back to the armchair, sinking into it, making himself comfortable. When he looks back to the bed, he notices Fen watching him, looking slightly dazed. Eliot offers her a small, private smile, and she mirrors it with one of her own, then bites her lower lip.

Fen’s attention is drawn back to Margo when she leans down, pressing her mouth into Fen’s stomach. 

Margo kisses her way up Fen’s body, over her chest (where she leaves marks) and up the column of her neck (where she does not leave marks) until her mouth finds Fen’s again and Margo kisses her deeply. Their bodies press together and Fen sighs, the sensation new and not-new at the same time. She runs her hands over Margo’s shoulders and pushes the robe off of her. 

Eliot watches them, two familiar shapes now made into one, pale-tan, ever-changing. He notices the increasingly desperate shifting of Fen’s hips, but Margo is still straddling her and there is nothing to provide friction where Fen wants it most. 

Margo straightens up, tall and royal, traces Fen’s lips with her fingers. Fen’s mouth opens. Margo slides two fingers in, rests them on Fen’s tongue. Fen is looking up at her, pupils blown, her eyes curious. Anticipating. She sucks Margo’s fingers with earnestness. Her eyes fall closed, and Eliot shifts in the chair. When Margo pulls her fingers out of Fen’s mouth they are spit-slick, glistening in the candlelight. Margo moves to straddle one of Fen’s thighs so that she can cup Fen’s mound. She’s warm and wet already, pressing into her palm impatiently. Margo smiles, bares her teeth like a predator. Fen’s breath hitches.

Margo traces Fen’s cunt with her fingers. They glide through her folds easily, make a circle around her clit, then move away again. It’s slow slow slow and it already feels too much, steady pressure settling in Fen’s lower abdomen. She is ruined. 

When Margo finally presses two fingers into her, Fen moans and her hips jerk. Margo leans back down, kissing her, while her fingers move inside of Fen, scissoring and curling and twisting. Fen moves, small smooth thrusts against Margo’s hand. Eliot can see Margo add another finger. Fen gasps and her chest heaves, and it’s… strange to see her like this. Her hand twisted in the sheets and her face smushed against her arm, mouth hanging open and her eyes screwed shut. She makes a sound with every breath. She’s absolutely gorgeous, then and there. Margo is giving her what Eliot never could. 

Margo slips a fourth finger inside of her and not longer after that, Fen comes with a strangled sound. For a while, she just lies there limply, her arm covering most of her face. Eliot notices the small there-and-back movement of Margo’s hips over Fen’s thigh. 

“Wow,” Fen says a little later. “That was…” 

“Fucking incredible?” Margo suggests.

“Yeah.” Fen nods and sits up. “I just need a-” 

And then Eliot is there, handing her the glass of water. Fen reaches out and her hand trembles, so Eliot decides not to let go. Instead, he gently tips the glass to Fen’s lips. She offers him a small “thank you”, lips glistening. Eliot takes a sip as well before holding the glass out to Margo who waves him off. 

“Do you want me to…?” Fen makes a vague hand gesture.

Margo shakes her head. “I’m good right now. How about you reconnect with El, hm?” 

Fen looks over at him, a “would that be alright?” apparent. Eliot considers it. He thinks about his half-hard dick straining against the fabric of his trousers and about Fen’s mouth opening eagerly for Margo’s fingers… He nods. 

Fen moves languidly, all pink cheeks-neck-chest and visibly fucked out. When she first came in, her hair was woven into an elaborate braid. Now, all that is left is a mess of fallen out strands. She looks thoroughly wrecked. 

She kneels down between his thighs, stark naked while Eliot is still mostly clothed. They must look good together like this. Eliot looks over to Margo, sprawled across the bed, her head resting in the palm of her hand. She winks at him playfully. Fen palms him through his trousers and Eliot focuses on her again. She works the trousers open just enough that she can pull his dick out, her touches gentle. Fen wraps her hand around him, stroking up and down with increasing pressure. Then she leans in and takes him in her mouth. 

Eliot lets out a shaky breath and relaxes into the armchair. Fen was… Fen has always been good at this. She strokes at him with her tongue, warm, velvety perfection, and then she takes him deep deep deep into her throat. His eyes fall closed momentarily, then he forces them back open. He wants to watch her. 

She slides up and down his cock, eyes closed in quiet concentration. There’s hair in her face. Eliot wants to push it away but suddenly, he’s afraid to touch her. Afraid that if he does, the moment will shatter. Hesitantly, he touches her temple and strokes his fingers behind her ear, tucking in the wayward strands. Fen looks up at him, establishing eye contact, and then her cheeks hollow. Holy fuck, thinks Eliot. 

“She looks so good like this,” Margo says from her spot on the bed. The hand that is not supporting her head is lazily moving in between her thighs.

“She really does,” Eliot agrees, still looking into Fen’s eyes. She blinks at him slowly, acknowledging the compliment. 

For a while, Eliot watches Margo watch Fen suck his cock. Want, so openly on Margo’s face. She strokes herself lazily, not to get anywhere, just to take the edge off. 

Later, Eliot touches the side of Fen’s face lightly to get her attention. Her eyes focus on him again, slowly, like she’s waking up from a really good dream.

“That’s enough, dear,” he says softly. 

She releases him from her mouth bit by bit, as if she doesn’t want to let him go. With one last lick at the head of his cock, Fen moves away from his crotch. Eliot strokes her cheek. She leans into his touch and her lips are pink and a little swollen. He runs his thumb over them.

“I’m cold,” Margo announces, and they both chuckle. “Come here.” It’s a request, lacking the usual sharp edge that Margo’s words have. 

Eliot helps Fen stand up and then finally takes off his clothes. 

He crawls into the bed. Margo and Fen kiss again (“you taste like him”), and Eliot lingers. He catches Margo’s legs, slips off her socks. She frowns at him. 

“I’ll get you warm,” he promises and kisses both of her ankles. Then her knees, hip bone that juts out, her ribcage. Finally, he kisses her mouth, deep, filthy. She makes a sound, and his hips press into her side. 

Eliot settles behind Margo, pulling her close and mostly on top of himself with his left arm wrapped around her torso. He bends his head down to the crook of her neck. He feels Fen press against Margo’s body, trapping his arm in between their bellies. Eliot hears them kiss. He busies himself by mouthing at Margo’s neck, biting and sucking on her skin, careful not to mark her. He’s only semi-successful. 

They shift to their side and Eliot pulls his arm from around Margo to brace his weight on it. Margo hooks her leg around Fen’s thigh, her cold foot resting in the space between Fen’s knees. 

Fen looks over at Eliot and moves forward. They kiss. It’s messy and fast and perfect. Eliot touches her nose with his own, sliding over it with a smile. She giggles. Then Margo gasps, her hips moving against his dick, and Eliot realizes that Fen has sneaked a hand down to Margo’s cunt. He won’t stay behind. 

Eliot touches Margo’s shoulder, traces the tips of his fingers down the length of her arm, over her hip and then down the curve of her ass. Margo’s leg resting on Fen’s thigh gives him enough space to dip his hand between her legs from behind. His fingers meet Fen’s and they touch together, sliding over each other and through Margo’s sodden folds. Then, Eliot’s hand stills. His thumb and index finger rest on one side of her vulva while his ring and pinkie rest on the other, bracketing Margo’s cunt. He slips his middle finger inside of her. Fen’s hand keeps touching Margo on the outside, paying attention to her clit. Margo mewls and her hips jerk. She wants Eliot to move, to do _something_ , why won’t he - Eliot curls his finger inside of her. Margo heaves a breath. 

“Fen,” she says and it’s quiet and pleading. “I want your fingers.” 

Fen kisses the corner of Margo’s mouth. Eliot can feel her slip two nimble digits inside of Margo. He keeps his own finger mostly still, occasionally presses it against Margo’s walls, while Fen does all the work. Margo’s hips grind against their hands, against his dick. Faster and faster, desperate. Margo grunts, pressing into Eliot’s chest helplessly. 

“Do you want-” he starts to ask but is cut off with yes, _please_. 

Eliot slides his finger out of her slowly. Fen gives him a look, asking, and he nods. Fen’s fingers pull out of Margo as well but she leaves them nestled in Margo’s folds. Eliot can feel the tips of Fen’s fingers brush against his dick as he glides halfway inside of Margo’s cunt. 

Eliot fucks her harsh and fast. They move again, Margo to her stomach, Eliot to kneel behind her. Fen rolls away, withdrawing her hand from Margo’s vulva. Eliot catches her wrist and opens his mouth. Fen puts her fingers inside, pressing behind his teeth. She then wipes her hand on his cheek, sticking her tongue out at him. Little minx. Eliot moves his own hand up up up over Margo’s bare back and into her hair. He thumbs at the hair tie, making the bun collapse. He grabs a fistful of Margo’s hair, pulls at it while his dick drives relentlessly in and out of her wet hot pulsing cunt.

Margo full-body trembles as she comes. She clenches around his cock, holding him inside of her for several seconds, then collapses onto the bed. Eliot kisses her shoulder blades and slowly, so fucking slowly pulls out of her. 

It’s only then that Eliot remembers Fen who is lounging by Margo’s side, looking comfortable and sated. 

“Hey,” he says, stroking her thigh. “Would you like me to-” Eliot wiggles his fingers a little awkwardly. 

“Oh, no, it’s alright. I made myself come a little while ago.” Fen’s smile is all mischief and also infectious, immediately tugging at Eliot’s own lips. 

“You alright, Bambi?” he asks, kissing her shoulder. 

Margo hums in affirmative, face buried in the bed sheets. Eliot leaves her be, pats her ass twice as he moves away from her. His dick is rock hard, shining with Margo’s arousal. He looks down at it with a thoughtful expression. Fen pokes his thigh with her toes. 

Eliot looks at her, sees her tap her stomach with her hand. 

“Alright,” he says. 

Wrapping his hands around Fen’s thighs, he tugs her down so that he is kneeling between her creamy thighs. He sits down on his heels and grabs his dick. His eyes close. He focuses on the weight of Fen’s legs resting on his own, on her and Margo’s breathing. He jerks himself off hard and fast. It doesn’t take long. He comes, thick white streaks all over Fen’s belly. Eliot breathes in raggedly. 

“Well,” he says then. “This was unexpected.” 

Fen is smiling up at him, covered in his spunk and absolutely radiant. Margo is sitting by the headboard, looking ruined but somehow collected at the same time. 

“I have the best ideas,” she reminds him. “Pass me the water.” 

Eliot does and also grabs his trousers so her can wipe his dick with them. After a brief moment, he decides to clean up his mess on Fen’s body too. She doesn’t say anything, but he know that she appreciates it. 

“Do you want to stay here?” he asks her. 

“That’s sweet,” Fen says, sincerely. “But I’m dying for a bath.” 

“Fair.”

Eliot helps Fen back into her dress while Margo watches them, sets her flower crown into the utter chaos that her hair is right now. Fen gives him a smile and a kiss and then she walks out of Margo’s chambers quietly. He looks at Margo. 

“Shower?” 

“God, yes.” … “Will you carry me?” 

Eliot laughs. “Yes, my King.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest oneshot i have ever written. i hope you like it. keep in mind English is my second language, so all mistakes are my own  
> (huge thanks to my friend for reading over this to spot any weirdness going on)


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